Where I Belong
by glowoffantasy
Summary: One Shot, Happy/OC, rated M for language. This is a story I really wanted to write.


**A/N:** One thing that I'm struggling with in the Sons of Anarchy show, and many other shows, as a student, a woman and a human being, is the constant affirmation of patriarchy. I identify myself as a feminist (among other things), and I sometimes get so frustrated with the way the men address themselves to women in the show, the titles 'sweetbutt', 'croweater' and 'Old Lady', or the fact that the only female run business is a porn studio – I could go on and on giving examples, but I am hopeful that you know what I'm talking about.

Don't get me wrong, just because I am aware of the chauvinism and misogyny in the show, does not mean I don't enjoy the show. In fact, I have a crush on Juice, and I can only image being dragged off by a big bad biker who will do god knows what to me.

HOWEVER: I notice that a lot of the stories on this website go along with this trend from the show, which is every author's good right. I just want to make sure that there is also a critical voice out there, which is not just going to blindly agree with everything going on. I'm basing the O/C Sarah McGinley heavily on myself, and how I would hope to go against the club members when discussing topics as objectification, possessive behaviour, and individualism.

In the end, I simply want to make everybody more aware of how deep the chauvinism seems to run in the TV show, and even though the MC is obviously not standard representation of reality, there are a lot of similarities with society that I can't deny.

Awareness and the acknowledgement of a problem is the first step towards a solution. Now this is not an original quote, and I don't remember who I paraphrased them from, but all of us, both women and men, need to realize that patriarchy and gender inequality are contemporary issues.I am simply trying to raise awareness to feminist issues. Personally I don't think it interferes with the quality of the story.

**If you're offended by this story, I'm sorry but all I can say is: GOOD. You need to be aware of ideas that might contradict yours. I've had that happen to me many times in my life, and it has only made me a better person. Sometimes I changed my opinion, sometimes the thinking about it simply confirmed my beliefs. But it's the THINKING what I'm trying to get at. As long as you're thinking about issues as feminism, it's always better than sitting by idly, not even noticing what the hell is going on in the world.**

**Some more explanation in response to the reviews:**

First of all, I'd like to state that I have no personal knowledge of real life MC life. All I know is taken from the tv show, and that's what I was responding to: how female roles are portrayed within the show.

Secondly, one thing I tried to point out throughout my story was the conflict one person could feel, between love and belief. As I'm sure you know, the heart sometimes wants things the head doesn't like. My characters are flawed by nature, because people are flawed by nature. I don't think that the way the OC handled things is the best way, and I don't think she's particularly strong.

And thirdly, I think the women in the show are incredibly strong. I have so much respect for how they deal with emotional and physical trauma, how they keep themselves together for the club and for their husbands; it's something I'm not sure I personally could do. And that was the angle I was writing from: how I would respond to living with an MC. And I think I would turn out to be a weak addition.  
And yes, the women in the club are there by choice, which sometimes results in what some would call bad feminism - however, every choice that was made deliberately by a woman, is a sign of empowerment itself, and therefore reduces patriarchy.

All women deserve respect, no matter what their profession. There is always a reason why they do what they do, and I cannot image some of the hardships some women must have gone through. I come from a very privileged background, so it's easy for me to judge croweaters, or strippers, or prostitutes, but I cannot say I wouldn't have done the same things, or made the same choices if I were in their shoes.

* * *

"This is your place girl. You belong here."

The words were echoing through my mind. I felt like crying. God did those words sting.

I did not belong here. I really did **not** belong there.

That place was like venom; it had slowly filled my body, draining it from its life force. I couldn't remember a time when I hadn't been poisoned by them, but that was mainly because there never had been such a time in the first place. They even found its way to University.

_I need to get out of here._

My breath was caught in my throat as my mind was racing through my options, but I couldn't focus, I couldn't get a grip. I only saw a rumble of memories flashing by.

Motorcycles; tattoos; bearded men; knifes; parties; fighting – I could go on for quite some time to describe what I had seen in my life.

I looked up to the eyes of the person who had spoken those words. I loved him, I truly did, but I couldn't do this anymore. I had given him too much of myself, and when I had stared in the mirror just minutes before, I was not able to recognize who I had become. I was not the person who I had hoped to be.

Instead, I was everything I had so often fought against. I had become the epitome of what I personally believed was one of the greatest problems society was facing today.

I could see worry arriving in his eyes when I did not respond verbally. I was a verbal person, and usually when I was angry, he could tell by my yelling, or hissing, or cussing.

I cannot say that I was not angry, when in fact, I was so furious that I felt like I was on fire and my head was about to burst open to let a hurricane of anger out. I could not control the shaking of my hands, even as I clamped them into tight white fists. The angry tears that I would sometimes get were quickly swallowed away, because I was angry beyond tears. I was fed up.

I had suffered enough.

I let out a breath of air, my tight lungs filling with the fresh air of cool night.

Behind us, a party was going on in the clubhouse. Women, alcohol, and testosterone were the primary guests, and all were roaming freely, filling the air with noises I knew only too well.

We were standing alone, away from the party, and I was happy that we were, because I didn't need anybody knowing our business. And I knew that afterwards, he would be grateful we had no audience. Although I must say that I was relieved as well, because it would be easier for me to leave without them begging me to stay.

I knew that after tonight, I was going to be alone. I would not receive help from my friends tonight, and I didn't expect them to. The values that they were clinging to were just too different from mine.

I noticed he took a step forward, thinking that I would need consoling. As soon as I noticed I let out a hiss of warning. "Back off." He needed no further instructions and took his step back.

He just looked at me annoyed now. I already knew what he was thinking; that I was being pitiful, and childish, and that I was a disgrace. I wasn't acting the way I was supposed to act, like a true Old Lady should behave. But I really didn't give a fuck anymore. I was done.

After tonight, I would be leaving this shithole called Charming. I would be leaving the MC, and I would be leaving him.

I straightened my back, raised my chin and spat fire with my eyes. How I wished I could burn him with simply my stare. But my words would have to do.

"David." I began, and I could already hear him grunt. He never liked his real name, but I really could not possible care less right now about what he did or did not like. I knew he wanted me to call him Happy, at least at the clubhouse, but like I said: I was done.

"I hope to fucking god that you know what this is about."

"Look, if you want to write for that little feminist blog, go for it. It's not worth my time and trouble."

I chuckled at that. "Fuck you David. Not worth your time and trouble? God, I wish you could just drop dead right now here in front of me; that would be so fucking great. It's good to know **I'm** not worth your time and trouble."

"That's not what– " I cut him off again. "Yeah yeah, bla bla bla; how original. That's exactly what you meant David, and you fucking know it. And this is not just about my **work and career and passion**, David. This is about the big fucking picture, and how you no longer fit into it."

I took a deep breath.

"I was a feminist theorist David. I wrote about gender equality for a living. I have published peer reviewed papers, come up with a theory on critical thinking in media culture, and I have given lectures all over the country inspiring a new generation of feminists."

"This, however," I stated, waving a hand at him and the clubhouse, "does not fit in with my academic career at all."

"I loved what I was doing, David, and I strongly believed that it was a cause worth fighting for. Yet here I am, years later, my career down the drain and all my beliefs being forced out of me. You couldn't have a strong woman standing next to you, doing what she wanted. No, I could only answer to you."

"I gave you everything I had. I left my job, I moved to Charming. I gave up writing and I abandoned my principles. I got a fucking crow for you."

"I never–"

"Shut up David. I know you never asked me to do that, but I loved you so fucking much. You were everything to me, and I can't stand the way you would look at me when I did something that was not appropriate. When I would question your judgement, or when I would tell you off. Even though you would sometimes 'put up with it' as you so fucking eloquently put it, I could see the disappointment in your eyes. I could see that I was not living up to your standards and it was killing me. You made me feel like I was worthless, and you never even uttered a damn word."

"I grew up here, David. I was taught at an early age that the way the men behave here was normal. Women were there to serve the men's every fucking need. Men were better in every single fucking way. Girls have to do as they're told. Women get branded to show that they belong to a man, as if they are property to be controlled! But it isn't normal. It's **not** fucking normal!"

"Remember that day when I was going for coffee with a friend form university, and you had the **prospect follow me**? And that when he gave me a hug at the end, you suddenly pulled up out of nowhere and beat him to a bloody pulp! You were yelling at him to keep his hands off someone else's woman. HE GAVE ME A FUCKING HUG!"

David sighed again, not wanting to listen to me start again. In his mind we had finished this topic, and his apathy was just fuel for my anger. I took it greedily.

"I was all yours. In every possible way I had given myself to you. Every time you needed me for anything, you'd only have to call and I would be right there, like I was your fucking slave. I lay awake in bed so many nights, worried sick not knowing if you would be coming back alive. And when that bullet grazed your head, I felt so lucky that you were still in one piece, because you were still alive. I was once again reminded how I needed to cherish every moment I had with you, because each following moment could be our last."

"But somehow, that was not enough. **I** was not enough for you." My voice had grown tired and weak by now.

David took a couple of steps forward, probably thinking that this was the moment where he could go in and console me or something. I simply took a couple of steps back, indicating that I did not want him anywhere near me. I knew what effect his touch could have on me, and I could not let my body respond for me. This was a matter of the mind finally being stronger than the heart.

He sighed, not pleased with me. "Just come back inside Sarah. We'll talk about it in my room." I knew why he wanted me inside. It was easier to control me in the clubhouse – the sting of the poising was stronger there.

"No David. That's what I wanted to tell you tonight. I'm leaving. I've had enough of this life and I won't put up with it any longer. Or you for that matter. This club is not who I am, nor is it who I want to be. And I'll be damned if this godforsaken place is where I belong, you fucker!"

"I am sick of looking in the mirror and barely being able to look at myself. You know who I was and what I did, and I gave all of that up for you. Yet, it was never enough. You just had to sleep with that sweetbutt in Tacoma. You just needed another pussy to satisfy your needs." I took a deep breath when I felt tears coming.

"What about **my** needs David?I want a man in bed at night, safe and sound. I want a man who is loyal to me. I want a man who respects me enough to let me make my own decisions, and who likes that."

"I am never going to get that here. I should have known from the start that I would never get what I want in this dump with your sorry ass. After university, I was so young and naïve, I actually thought I could change you, you know that? I thought I could change Happy Lowman. The Enforcer, The Tacoma Killer. I thought I could get David out of you, respect me as a woman and let me be my own person."

I took another deep breath.

"I thought I was smart enough to change a couple of things around here, but I was young and foolish. I lost myself in the process. You cannot possibly begin to comprehend what effect you had on me, Happy."

"That's all over now though. I am claiming myself, Happy. I am pulling myself out of this traitorous, poisoning place, and I will rebuild myself."

I could see he looked shocked. He had never thought in a million years that I would find the guts to do this. He couldn't and wouldn't believe that I had had enough.

I took another deep breath, and spoke the last words I would ever say to David, or Happy, or whoever he was. But he was not mine, and he had never been mine like I had been his.

Even now, I couldn't tell him what had made me come to this. I could not tell him what I had truly lost simply by being with him. That even though all this talk of independence, there was a reason even more fundamental to my departure. But he would know soon enough.

"I'm giving up on you, Happy, and I'm giving up on this club. I cannot put myself through this any longer. Congratulations, you have truly won. You have broken my spirit. But you know what? I'm going to be just fine. Without you and without the club. It's time I started taking care of myself again, and it feels damn good to say that I really don't need you anymore. Goodbye Happy."

I walked to my car and drove off, satisfied that I had a whole new life ahead of me, full of unknown adventures.

* * *

Ten months later a book came in the mail at the SAMCRO clubhouse. The title read _Biker Culture: The Feminist Argument_. In the front of the book, I had written a message for them, short and polite. The book itself would be hard enough for them to read.

_Thank you for the years of inspiration. _

_You have aided my career in ways I had never thought possible._

_ I hope you are all doing well. _

_Sarah McGinley._

I had made sure that I had changed all the names and minimized evidence of me ever being in Charming. I also did not involve any of the club business in the book – I wanted to hurt them emotionally, not make them easy targets for their rivals. I only focused on the position of women in the club, even changed some of the professions of Tara, Gemma and Layla to make sure that it wasn't that clear.

But people would know exactly how much I had given up for Happy. It wasn't just my career; it was also my baby – our baby.

There had been a shootout one night and I got hit. I knew I was pregnant, just 7 weeks, but I hadn't told Happy yet. I'd found out only 3 days before and the news was still just sinking in. I didn't know if he would be happy with the news or not, somewhere I held the hope that it would bring us closer if I would be the mother of his child.

The shootout changed that when I got hit. It was retaliation for something the club had done. After that, I could barely stand to look at Happy, knowing that he was partly to blame for the death of this unborn child. Then I started blaming myself for even allowing myself to become so closely entangled with the club.

My baby's death was my wake up call, as brutal as that may sound. I had realized how dangerous life out here was, not just for me, but for any child I would bare in the future. When I was imaging a life for them, I liked to think they would go to university some day, and get out of this life.

I slowly figured that the only way my children would get out was if their dad would be out. It hit me like a brick in the teeth when I realized that Happy would never leave the MC.

My decision had been made, then and there, that I would leave, never to return.

That is exactly what I did. I didn't hide from the MC. If they wanted me, they could come and find me. I was starting a new life in Chicago, where the University of Chicago offered me a position as a sessional instructor for some Communications and Women's Studies courses. I gladly accepted; academia was my passion, and I was good at it. Maybe if I stayed long enough, I would be able to work my way up and become a full time professor.

This life was safe, and I was respected within the academic community. **This** is where I belonged, where I was truly at home.

I have to admit, it took me a couple of months to get settled, the freedom I experienced was quite overwhelming at first. When I came home there were no interrogating questions coming my way, no wishes for dinner uttered.

But eventually I picked myself up, made some friends, and started a whole new life. My new book was got a lot of positive feedback, and I was even invited for interviews, but I declined almost all – except one from the New York Times. Because, well, it's the New York fucking Times. Plus, I got final cut, taking out the parts that I was worried about they revealed too much about Charming and the MC. I may have left, but I never stopped loving them.

Bobby tried to contact me a couple of times, but even he got the message when I didn't pick up after the 3th time. I felt a little ashamed I had cut them all out so coldly; I had spent most of my life with these people, they had always offered me a home and the love only family can provide. And the book probably was pretty cold. But I sure as hell couldn't go drop it off myself.

I was becoming happy again, something that I hadn't felt in a long time. Happy was on my mind a little bit less each day, and by the time my book rolled out of publishing, I finally admitted to myself that there was a good chance I was no longer in love with him.

I came home late one night, after I had spent the night in a bar with friends. I wasn't drunk, but I wasn't sober either, and I was quite shocked to see Bobby waiting in front of my apartment. Before I could turn around and leave unnoticed, he'd already spotted me and got up from the stairs he was sitting on. His bike was parked on the side of the road, clearly in his view.

"What are you doing here Bobby? I asked with a smile on my face. I had missed the old man, his Elvis impressions and his baking. His hash brownies were the best, I gotta admit.

"Now what could I possibly be doing in Chicago waiting in front of your apartment?" Sarcasm dripping off his voice. "Give me a hug, sweetheart." I gladly obliged his request. Even though he was quite short, he was a good hugger. The memory of the way he raised me as his own combined with the alcohol in my system allowed me to nearly fly into his arms.

"I missed you kiddo." He spoke softly into my ear. "I missed you too, Bobby."

We hugged for nearly a minute when he finally let go of me. "Can I come in? I'd like to talk to you. I didn't just drive up here for several days for a hug."

I chuckled and waved my arm as an invitation. After a little fight I was having with my key, I managed to open the door and let us both in. I lived on the top floor of a building with no elevator, so Bobby was panting a little. I opened my house door and turned on the light.

My place was moderately decorated, mainly filled with IKEA product, but they were modern, simple and cheap, and I wasn't exactly making a whole lot of money as an academic.

Some walls were a soft light grey colour, others off-white. I had a light grey wooden floor, one of the most expensive purchases in this house. It was all very light and zen, with some black and old brown furnishing. I had two big windows at each side of the apartment, allowing in a lot of light during the day. I walked to the kitchen, which was open concept with a bar facing my living room. I pointed to a stool for Bobby to sit on. The kitchen was my favourite hang out.

I walked to the fridge and grabbed two beers, twisting the caps off. I placed one in front Bobby who had settled down, while I sat down on my cooking island. I had been incredibly lucky with this gem of a house, and I loved every second I spent in here. I was hoping that wasn't going to change now.

"You said you wanted to talk, so shoot." I came straight to the point, not wanting to postpone the inevitable. I was ready for a talk about why I needed to come back to Charming.

"No small talk huh? Nothing changed much on that front." Bobby attempted at small talk, but I wouldn't fall for it. I just stared at him until he was uncomfortable enough that he would start talking.

He sighed, knowing I didn't want any bullshit, and started talking.

"You might want to know that everybody was really shocked when Happy walked back into the clubhouse. He looked absolutely defeated, none of us had ever seen him like that. We couldn't get him to tell what had happened, but when he chugged a bottle of tequila and took 3 croweaters to his room, we all figured it was really bad. Jax went outside to see if you were there, but he said your car was gone. None of us were capable of driving, and by the time we stopped by your house the next day you were long gone. You cleaned that place out good, there was hardly a trace you ever lived there."

I heard the reproach in his tone, and I wanted to stare away from his stare, but Bobby deserved more respect than a weak blush. What I had done wasn't pretty, but I had my reasons to do it this way, and I wasn't ashamed of it. I wasn't going to let anybody of the MC put me down in any way, any longer.

When I didn't respond, Bobby continued.

"We tried talking to Happy, but you know how he is. He went off the deep end though. Took on a lot of jobs, drinking till the bottles were empty, burying himself in everything that would not remind him of you. Then the book came, and all hell broke loose. I swear to God, I have never seen that man so angry. You thought that the Lodi incident of 2008 was bad? It was a tea party in comparison to his reaction. He got completely hammered, nearly got alcohol poisoning, and started picking fights with all of us. Gemma was so pissed with you messing up the club this way. We had other things to focus on, such as Tara's arrest, and then we had to deal with all this shit. We lost one of our strongest assets and it made vulnerable. We were all hurt by your leave, but that book, Sarah? That was cruel. We all read it, and I still can't believe how you would put all of that shit in there for the world to read."

I shifted slightly, a little uncomfortable with the stares Bobby was sending my way. I didn't look away though, I had expected that I would one day have to answer for my actions, and I was prepared to defend myself, and my choices.

Hearing about how Happy had taken my leave was quite a shock. I knew he cared, but I hadn't expected him to go crazy. I thought he would just close off and deal with it like he dealt with his kills or something. Close off, take a deep breath and push it away, because in the end, it really didn't matter to him.

But Bobby wasn't done.

"And then we read about the baby. He was like a raging bull, blind to the world, with only one wish: destruction. It wasn't until he destroyed three cars with a big ass club hammer, and emptying over a dozen chambers, that he finally managed to calm down. Then one day, all of a sudden, he showed up sober to church, was as calm as a summer's breeze and never mentioned you again. That was about 4 months ago, about 2 months after your book came. According to the club, you're cut off. They passed the book as treason in a vote, and Happy even voted to have you killed. That one didn't pass, because Jax understood why you did it and managed to convince the rest of 'em. But it came close, Sarah. You should know that."

That was a lot to take in. I officially no longer had any family in Charming. It hurt a little of course, but not as badly as I had expected. I had left them behind after all, and this wasn't too much of a surprise.

"So I'm figuring I need to get rid of my Crow soon then, huh?" I chuckled slightly, and Bobby looked up at me with an incredulous look, wondering if I had actually heard the entire story. He refused to belief that was my only response, but he didn't say anything.

"So if I'm cut off, why are you here Bobby? To let me know that I need to get my Crow covered? Because I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be here."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. "You've become hard, girl. It doesn't suit you." He remarked sharply.

"Yeah, spending your life with bikers tends to do that. Especially when they break your god damn heart and don't even notice it." I sounded bitter. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help myself. There was still a lot of pain residing within me.

Bobby remained quiet, just watching me.

"If that's all, I'd like to go to bed now."

With that quick announcement, I let Bobby know that he was no longer welcome. Even though I loved that man like a father, I was cut off from the MC, and him being here could get him into serious trouble. He didn't deserve that. Being hard was the only defense mechanism I had left to prevent me form breaking down right in front of him, and I think he knew that.

He nodded softly, turned around and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, sweetheart. I still don't understand why you told none of us about the baby. I thought we had no secrets... After reading the book, I can see how much you suffered and that you had enough, but I really don't know if that was the way to do it."

"Look Bobby, I needed a clean break. It was between Happy and me, and you know how private he is. I did not need any bystanders as I explained my deepest feelings to him. And I knew that as soon as I stepped into that clubhouse to say my goodbyes, I would be ambushed from all sides. I needed to do this for me; there was no pretty way to it. This was the cleanest way, I'm sure about that. I'm sorry I never told you, but I couldn't deal with the failure or protecting my child. I was ashamed, and afraid that if I told Happy, he would just judge me more. I couldn't deal with that."

I sighed, knowing that Bobby would never fully understand.

"Tell Happy... Tell him that I'm sorry for not telling him about the baby. But that's the only thing I will apologize for. I'm not apologizing for putting my own needs over the club's needs, or Happy's. I've done that long enough and I reached my limit."

Bobby quietly nodded and opened the door behind him. I moved up to him and gave him another hug. "I love you Bobby, but I need this for me. The club wasn't healthy for me. I'm happy here for the first time in a real long time. I'm moving on. Y'all should do the same."

Bobby let go of me and looked me in the eye. "I know sweetheart. Take care of yourself. This was the last time you'll hear from any of us, but I'll pass along your message."

I nodded with gratitude, saw Bobby out, and listened to the sound of his Harley driving down the street. I took a couple of deep breaths in the cool night air, feeling quite sobered up.

I didn't know what to think of that visit, and I went to bed with a lot on my mind. Needless to say, I couldn't really sleep that night.

* * *

The next day I dragged myself out of my bed. I had to teach that day, and I felt very unprepared. The lecture went fine, I decided to go with mainly discussion today, and several students seemed eager to talk. That didn't happen that often, so I was very grateful when they took over most of the speaking part.

After an hour and a half it was over, and some students came down to ask me questions about the upcoming paper or test. When that was all said and done, I packed up my stuff, ready to grab some lunch.

I walked up the stairs, my mind still wrapped up with the conversation I had the night before, with Bobby. Suddenly I heard a familiar cough from somewhere to my right, and my head snapped up.

Two dark brown eyes were staring back at me and my breath got stuck in my throat. I nearly dropped my bag and lecture notes, failing to keep my composure. He had this effect on me, the bastard.

He walked up to me, with that air of confidence I had always thought was so attractive. His eyes locked on me, a deadly calm residing on his face.

When he stood in front of me, I had to swallow twice to stop my head from running in circles. Bobby I could deal with, but this was completely unexpected and it had caught me totally off guard.

"So this is what you want?" He finally spoke after a five minute staring contest I was losing. I had never been more grateful that there was no lecture directly after mine in this room.

His voice woke me up, especially with his reference to my work, and I began thinking straight again.

"Yes." There was nothing more too it. I knew Happy was a man of few words, so why bother him with them.

He looked at me again, deep in thought.

"Bobby told me you haven't gotten your Crow covered. Why?"

"Haven't gotten to it yet. I still love you, so it feels inappropriate. I didn't want to do it until I knew in my heart I was completely over you." I had always prided myself in my honesty, and I wasn't gonna change that now. Plus, Happy would know if I lied.

He just stared at me more.

"Look, I got places I need to be, so if that's all, I'd like to go now." I tried to be strong, but he still held a hold over me. I still loved him. I shut my eyes and face the floor, remembering the lecture I had just given about equality. It had to be earned, and he could do this, so could I.

I looked up again with renewed faith in myself, and kept tall.

Slowly Happy moved away from me. I saw something in his eyes, something I had often wished would have showed more often. He took a deep breath and started speaking.

"I am sorry Sarah. I never knew... Fuck. I never realized how much I hurt you. I took you for granted. And I'm sorry."

I sighed deeply. I hoped that this was all there was to it, but in vain, because he continued.

"I have never loved anybody like I loved you, please know that. And it kills me that it wasn't enough. You must know that feeling." His voice trailed off, and I was getting angry at the implication he put in front of me, trying to make me feel guilty. But I wouldn't respond, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Look, all I want to know is, are you happy?" I looked at him shocked. That was the last question I ever expected to hear coming from his mouth. My mouth fell open slightly. I never knew I had this effect on him. I really must have gotten him twisted up inside for him to be concerned about someone else's happiness.

He nearly made me forget everything as my heart fluttered at the question, but a door opening up snapped me out of it. A confused student looked at the empty lecture hall, then at us, and Happy the angry biker, and quickly decided to make a run for his money. That was all I needed and I felt empowered again.

"Yes Happy, I am. I feel like myself again. This is the place where I actually belong, where I can be who I want to be without judgement. Look, what we had was complicated, but it's over now. The club has cast me out, and you talking to me could get you into trouble. Go Happy, I'm doing better here than I've ever done with the club."

He continued to stare me in the eyes, searching to see if it was the truth. He finally nodded in consent.

"Ok Sarah. You won't hear from me again. I'm sorry."

I was shocked to see him simply walk away from me, but I was grateful that he understood.

When I remembered I was on my way to lunch, I figured that a situation like this required something much stronger, so I went home. I didn't have any lectures any more that day, and the papers I needed to grade to wait one more day.

On my way I stopped by the store to pick up chocolate, ice cream, coke, limes and rum. I was gonna make myself some cocktails today, and wash 'em down with my favourite comfort food.

Getting wasted by myself wasn't as much fun as I had hoped to be. Even the pizza delivery gay looked disturbed when I opened to door to pay him. I was wearing my oldest, comfiest sweatpants and hoodie, my hair was messy and my makeup slightly washed away. I hated that Happy still had this effect on me, and I was punishing myself with alcohol.

The next day however, as I slowly woke up and realized that the past two days had really happened; I knew it was finally time for me to move on completely. Happy had done so. And even though I hated a small part of myself for basically needing Happy's permission to let myself move on, I was happy when I finally did.

I cannot say how it happened or why, but it felt like some sort of pressure was removed from my chest, allowing me to truly breath for the first time after a very long time. A weight had lifted from my shoulders, and shackles were removed from my ankles.

Despite the hangover, I felt better than I ever had in my entire life. I was finally allowing myself to be free, allowing myself to be who I was. I finally felt a certain way; it was a feeling I had always dreamt of feeling, and the moment itself was quite surreal.

And in that moment I knew I was free, and that I was going to do amazing things with my life ahead of me.


End file.
